One.

Simple joys when I think of our happy place.

The sound when your coin pouch and watch make when they drop them on the bowl on our shoe cabinet.

The tiny somersaults within me when I hear you pull our drawer while you change and come to see what I have cooked for us.

Running towards you when you get home, like I’m at the beach and you are my wave of happiness.

Your glee while opening the parcels that arrive that it feels like Christmas and I’m your Santa.

The childlike fun you have while washing our balcony.

Seeing you so settled on our sofa the minute you sit down and raise your legs on our footstool.

The long, sometimes over-exaggerated ummmm, you make after the first bite of food you have.

Coming to know, now, that our bed is your happy place. It is mine too.

Knowing you are sleeping so soundly beside me.